


In Dreams

by solsethegreat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Other, Surreal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:09:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solsethegreat/pseuds/solsethegreat
Summary: Various drabbles inspired by dreams.





	1. The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it would be interesting to write short little pieces of fiction instead of dream journaling, so I'll update this as I get inspired by the strange and wonderful dreams I have.

The storm was coming. The men with the power, to destroy all just because of who we chose to love. Because of something our hearts decided. There was nothing we could do to stop it but hide. 

The Witches. We called them that, but they hated it. They controlled everything. The money. Power. Religion. Knowledge. It was through all of these resources that they built a machine. A machine to control the weather. To annihilate the things they did not understand. Us. People they felt they had to hate, justifying their ways because of text in an outdated book. 

They’d started off small. Rallying the majority with warnings of how we would pervert their children. Of how we would defy their faith and destroy their morals. How we were the other and other was dangerous. They grew enough support to start collecting us. Destroying us. Killing us and then explaining it away as we posed a dangerous threat. It was easy to justify murder when the company line was ‘think of the children.’ 

By the time it was a full blown epidemic we’d created a resistance. A few hundred of us, not many, but it was a local and small operation. We operated out of an abandoned funhouse in a derelict theme park. And there, we could finally be free. Open to live. Open to love. But Witches do what they do best, and our magic mountain hideaway was not free for long.

The machine. It was able to create a hurricane thats path they could control. And they had but one place in mind for it. Us. Destroy us. We aren’t human. We are incapable of love. Not real love. Not their definition of love. The storm took us out in little time, flooding our halls and drowning our people. We narrowly escaped to the edge of a cliff, where their savage beast-men awaited us. We had a fight ahead, but we would fight. We will be free. Someday. 

  
  



	2. A Change in the Script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The narrator discovers they can alter the plot of a horror movie by speaking directly to the characters.

I’ve seen this movie a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. Billy always dies. He runs through the cabin and jumps out the window of the boy’s dormitory only to get stuck in a bear trap and be hacked to death by the Trapper. But I scream at the television anyway. Because Billy was my favorite. He was sweet and sarcastic, a little dumb and a little bit of a jackass, but the sweetest face I’d ever seen. This movie was old, and I don’t think the actor did anything else, so he was just always Billy to me.

“Don’t go that way! Don’t open that door!” I say for the one hundredth time. But something has changed this time. Billy stops. He stops and blinks, looking over his shoulder like he heard something. And instead of opening the door to the room he’s destined to run through and die just outside of, he turns and runs down the opposite hallway.

He can hear me.

“Watch out! Move to your left!” I say. I can see the layout better than he can because the movie is lit for the audience and not the character, and he narrowly misses another bear trap laid in the hallway. He climbs out yet another window, one the Trapper wasn’t anticipating. But the camera cuts over to him noticing, and back to Billy.

“Run back to the dock!” I cry out. Billy looks up at the sky with a confused look. He can definitely hear me. But then he runs to the dock. Tommy and Rhonda, the final guy and girl, are starting up the boat. They’d left him for dead, but here he was. Alive.

“Billy?” Rhonda says, confused. Things were going off script. It was not meant to be this way. In any case, they welcome him onto the boat as it starts. They begin to get away… when a harpoon shoots through Tommy’s shoulder and he falls into the water.

The script was changing. Now I had to rewrite the end of the story. I don’t necessarily want Tommy to die, but I have to think fast.

I don’t think I’m prepared for this responsibility.


End file.
